The aroma smells like heaven—if God needs comfort food—and I can’t remember the last time I had something this simple.
I shovel a forkful in my mouth and fall back against my chair, smiling as I chew.
“Mag?” Brina calls out, a hint of worry in her voice.
“It’s...yeah, you outdid yourself. Best thing I’ve eaten in ages.” Mainly because it tastes exactly like a guilty, creamy hotdish full of cheese-slathered noodles should.
Brina grins. “Have you had it before? I know I’m not the best cook.”
“Only a few times,” I say. “My grandmother used to cook like this when I’d visit Geneva, Illinois. I thought I’d lost my appetite for casseroles years ago, but you just resurrected it.”
“You’re welcome.” She laughs. “What a relief. I wasn’t sure you’d like it. It’s kind of simple for your tastes.”
I look up, swallowing another heaping bite.
“You make me sound like an arrogant douchebag,” I grumble. “Dinner doesn’t have to come from a place pecked over by half a dozen food critics for me to enjoy it.”
She doesn’t say anything, and the silence speaks volumes.
“Come on.” I smile, setting down my fork. “I can’t be that horrible.”
“Not when a person gets to know you,” she says. “But you’re a hard guy to get to know.”
I don’t like that last part.
Hell, I don’t want to be hard for her to get to know, and I also shouldn’t care.
Her heels tuck around my leg. The outside of her foot runs up my ankle, sending a flash of heat through muscle.
My hand drops under the table and I circle her ankle with my fingers, luxuriating in her soft skin. Across the table, her eyes twinkle with hot starlight and she smiles.
“You’re pure evil,” I tell her. “You’re the one who dragged me out here for this decadent meal, remember?”
“Did I, now?” she purrs. “I can’t possibly be crueler than you.”
This girl.
I have a terrible vision of Sabrina’s flirting listed as my cause of death on some starched county document.
“I was more than willing to settle our unfinished business. You insisted on dinner,” I mutter. “That’s downright heartless.”
She blushes, laughs, and takes another bite of her food.
Ten minutes later, she finishes her plate and her legs are still in the same spot.
I’m not letting go, damn her.
“If I can have my foot back, Mag...I’m going to check on Jordan and respond to a few quick emails. Why don’t you rest?”
Rest is the last thing on my mind.
Still, despite the size of this place, it would be prudent to make sure the kid goes to sleep before anything else happens.
I haven’t finished dinner yet, either, but that could be because I’m mighty distracted caressing the ankle and calf I’m holding hostage. I glide my hand up to her knee, squeeze, and draw small circles with my thumb until I feel her shudder.
“It’s Saturday night. You don’t have to check your email. The airline work won’t hit its stride until January second.”
Her eyes close.
“You’re wrong. See, my boss is a huge tyrant...” Her silly line sounds more seductive than funny when the words come out so light.
“Check your email in my room?” I make it a question on purpose.
She hesitated earlier, and if she truly wants to change her mind, I’ll give her the chance. But if she doesn’t...she’ll have a better chance wrestling a grown tiger than keeping me off her.
“Sure.” She bites her bottom lip.
My eyes follow her lush, full ass the whole time as she gets up, walks over, and puts her plate in the sink, then heads around the bend in the hall to check on Jordan.
She’s too sweet for life.
Brina’s convinced him to do normal fourteen-year-old things like eat.
Everyday necessities I couldn’t get him to do no matter how hard I tried.
I might be glued to her ass, her legs to nirvana, her palm-sized breasts, and those bottomless brown eyes, but let’s be real.
She’s a fucking godsend, and I meant every word when I said I didn’t deserve her.
I practically inhale the rest of the food whole, and then scarf down what’s left in the pan. I need my strength and I’m ready to be sealed in my room with Brina all night.
Alone.
When I get there, she’s sitting in the window seat, typing away on her laptop. I sit down beside her and kiss the crown of her head.
“Was he okay?”
“He’s fine. His mom is all he has, you know? This is just hard for him.” She goes quiet, bites her lip, and then says, “But she doesn’t have to be everything. He has you. You’re family, even if you’ve just met.”
“He hates me,” I point out, trying to hide the fact that I care.
She shakes her head.
“No, Mag, I don’t think so. You’re just new and it’s a huge shock to find out you’ve got a missing older billionaire brother. Jordan’s overwhelmed. This is pretty serious stuff. He’s only fourteen. His feelings aren’t written in stone.”